The Exposition
by Harlequin de Rustre
Summary: Harry was in the Leaky Cauldron, and he's going to learn what was kept from him since that fateful day...unfortunately...


Hey there. Back from a long vacay, hey?

Well nay- no more!

Here's what Harley has in store!

One Potterfic for the bonfire! A spur-of-the-moment fic spawned so spuriously to somewhat spitefully make a spitfire point.

So here it is! The Exposition!

The "intellectual property" herein owned in ink and legalese by J.K. Rowling- the saucy minx- and all the various publishing companies and Warner Brothers, making money off it while I don't. Yippee!

Hagrid put down his tankard of mead to look the 11 year-old boy right in the eye, then taking a short breath before saying "Yer a wizard, Harry."

Young Harry Potter gaped in surprise

"A- a what?"

"Aye," Hagrid said, eyes twinkling, "and ye defeated Voldemort, the dark wizard that killed yer parents, with help from yer dead mum!"

Harry paled now, very disturbed. He gaped speechlessly at the giant, hairy man, unsure how he could smile so broadly whilst saying such disturbing things.

"T'Was the power of love- well, that or undead wizard magic. Oh! But Voldemort left a piece of his wicked soul in ya- but shhhh nobody knows that yet."

Hagrid looked about the Leaky Cauldron before leaning forward, a strange twitch developing under his left eye, cupping his mouth with his enormous hand, whispering in a conspiratorial voice "Not even me."

Now Harry looked positively nauseated, nearly falling onto the floor if not for Hagrid catching him gently by his collar, half-choking Harry before the boy steadied himself by putting a hand on the table.

"A piece of a murderer's soul...in me," Harry looked up at Hagrid, eyes wet with unshod tears, "this is too much to take in."

"Aha," said Hagrid, tapping his nose with a hairy finger, "but tha's the trick- ye'll survive the Avada Kadavra using that Horcrux- tha's wha' they're called, by th' way, them pieces of souls- when Voldemort blasts you again and come back and blow him up instead."

Harry's head spun, newly confused. "Wh- wha-"

Hagrid smiled strangely, the grin not quite fitting his ruddy, friendly features"An' ya know wha' else? There's a man that's still in love with yer mum."

The green eyed 11 year-old looked back up at Hagrid, having put his head on the table in a desperate bid to keep from being completely floored by all these strange and unwholesome revelations.

Hagrid winked. "Oh yeah. Followed yer mum around ev'rywhere. In Hogwarts, out of Hogwarts... Di'n' matter to young Severus Tobias Snape. He kept after her ev'ry step o' e way, as hard as yer dad made it. Kicked the shit outter him a few times, if I recall. Or was it the other way around? I ferget- somethin' made Lily mad at 'im, tha's fer sure."

Harry spluttered, his face flashing between white as a sheet and purple as a beet faster than should be healthy for any human being, Muggle or wizard.

"Ohhh tha' man hated yer dad. Sure ter hate you, too, seein' as ya look so much like th' guy. But one look at them eyes ye got from yer mum an' he'll go weak in the knees- so Snape Rule Number One: Maintain Steady Eye Contact. Oh, and grow yer hair out long and color it red, if'n ye can."

Hagrid took a sip of his mead, belching heartily.

"Ah, yeah, and he conjures a Patronus- some happy psychic wizard animal spirit guide thing- that's suppos'd ter be yer mum's- a doe. Dunno why a doe, but I guess Sever's has a, er, thing for fluffy tails or something."

Harry sat back in his chair, massaging his throbbing temple, feeling a vein pulsing very prominently under his fingertips.

"oh, and ye'll be able to conjure a bigass Patronus! Prolly a stag, like'n yer dad, which'll pro'lly piss Sev'rus off to no end, but no matter."

Hagrid patted his significant girth. "Ye'll be fightin' the good fight against the Ministry of Magic in no time."

Several patrons looked around at Hagrid briefly trying to glare a hole in the giant man's head before turning back in their respective seats.

"The...what?"

"Oh!" Hagrid exclaimed, making Harry jump, "tha's jus' the wizarding gov'rnment running stuff around the Isles hereabouts. They used ter be somethin', but now they're useless."

Hagrid took another sip from his tankard, adding "Still a tool for the Death Eaters, tho'"

A nearby patron spewed the contents of his mouth, coughing hard as his neighbor slapped his back to help clear his windpipe  
"Death Eaters."

"Oh, yeah- the gang that ran with Voldemort back when he was completely alive. Figured themselves an army for pure wizardkind or something. Anyways, they got people all in the Ministry, 'specially Lucius Malfoy, the... handsome... blond devil."

Hagrid sat for a brief moment, uncharacteristically silent, eyes glazed over, large hairy lips twitching perversely. He finally blinked, finding himself back to reality.

"Anyway," the giant said, hitting Harry in the eye with a stray gob of spittle, "you'll get ter beat th' snot outter his kid come yer entering Howarts. Or ye can get yer girlfriend ter do it- Malfoys are sissy pushovers by nature, y'know."  
Hagrid grinned a bit, and Harry thought he saw a bit of deeper color forming on the large man's already booze-ruddied cheeks.

"And guess what else?" Hagrid's eyes twinkled again, seeming to almost shine in the dim light of the inn.

"What?" Harry said, already nearing wit's end.

The giant's features began to sickeningly distort, bulging and creaking and bubbling as the entire frame of the man began to shrink, bit by bit. His hair began to streak white, bleaching near completely as the bushy great mass of black hair began to straighten, reordering itself whilst the huge clothes of the giant bagged around the shoulders of what was now an exceedingly elderly, but clearly spry, man, whose intense blue eyes stared right into the depths of Harry's young soul (figuratively, of course...hopefully...).

"I'm really Albus Dumbledore, your future headmaster!"

Dumbledore raised his arms in the universal "Surprise!" gesture, looking downright strange, as his arms were engulfed in the huge clothes of Hagrid whilst part of his pale, extraordinarily hairy chest showed naked through the substantial neck-hole of the huge shirt and duster jacket. Harry wished he could immediately bleach his memory and his sight in general of the all-too-real visage of saggy old man nipples...HAIRY saggy old man nipples.

The old wizard in giant's pants put down his arms, grinning like a mad hatter, inquiring "Would you like a lemondrop?"

Harry, face in hand, waved him off, saying "No" and hoping that would spare him something, if anything, that this disturbing man had to offer.

"As I said," the recently-shrunk man began, "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I will oversee all your extraordinary and life-threatening adventures like an old fart like me should, offering your cryptic advice in the hopes you'll actually your brain for something other than imagining girls naked or whatever it is boys your age do. I've a long and sordid history that nobody seems to know about other than some old woman who's going to choke down the first fat snake she'll have had in decades (I fear it will be the death of her). I have studied with Nicholas Flamel, dueled with a dark wizard, who I also had copious gay sex with, watched a second grow and rise to power- taught him Charms, in fact, chased him off, formed a secret society- which was immediately infiltrated but shhh- covered up your existence by placing you at the Dursley residence, and have done lots of other stuff, like found 12 ways to crack a safe with goblin piss- or was that dragon piss? Maybe it was menstrual blood? Regular blood. Was type important? I forget- and I'm allowed to; I'm older than most people alive today. Oh, and that trick with playing as Hagrid, the groundskeeper I drank under the table last night and stole the clothes of to run his own errand? Polyjuice Potion. Ohhh Muggle secret services would love to get their hands on this stuff; turns you into whatever you have the hairs, skin, flesh, or blood sample you plunk into it. Timing for it usually lasts an hour unless you take regular swigs of the exact same brew. Hagrid's tasted like hippogriff cock- hippogriff cock with a strong case of harpy herpes. How I know is best kept between you, me, and a dirty bird named Sheila. That potion will come in really handy or something when your godfather breaks out of prison! Ohhh the laughs you will have! Or maybe you have a go with the stuff before then. After? I don't know, my elderly improbable omniscience plot device is acting up. Must some interference due to the pelican jock-itch harboring around my second left scrotal sac. Corruption of Champions is a funny game...anywho, you'll learn all sorts of stuff. Feel free to forget the boring stuff like history and most of those silly housekeeping Charms. Swindle your teachers into teaching you things like Forbidden Curses, Animagic, Patronus Charms, and how to read other people's minds so you can blackmail them or figure out if they like you, like you like you,mor are just trying to get close so they can marry you, steal all your money and run off with another man. Or woman. Or transsexual. Or troll. Or bixual pixie-robot. Oh, and wait til you get a load of your friend Ron Weasley- who you haven't met yet but will- or, rather, his sister, Ginny. Oh~ how I wish I was young enough to get in on that tender young ginger action. Mmph. Did I ever mention how I had a secret brother, who I-"

Harry suddenly snapped, surging up from his seat, yelling at the top of his lungs, picking up the tankard of mead with both hands and drowning himself with it. The Boy Who Lived slammed it down, roaring impotently before falling over, stone cold drunk.

Dumbldore blinked, popping a lemondrop into his mouth. "Was it something I said?"


End file.
